Happiness is a Warm Gun
by MoniNicole94
Summary: Prompt for badthingshappenbingo: "Taking the Bullet". Sam has a new super fan. Hurt!Sam; Protective!Dean


**Warnings: Hurt!Sam, Protective!Dean, ambiguous en**

Normally, tied to a chair in front of the baddie of the week was Sam's responsibility. Dean always told him he was the damsel in this family. But Dean hadn't been on the top of his game after everything that they had been through, and Sam had been too busy researching. Of course, Dean had to go to the one bar that a warlock was stalking.

Just freakin' great.

"You shouldn't have went out alone." The guy said, sitting in his chair across from Dean, pistol hanging loosely in his fingers. "It's dangerous around these parts at night. Especially with all those angry demons out there."

"Yeah, well, I think I can take my chances just nicely." Dean said back. The warlock, a man named Chris Richards, shook his head.

"After everything that you and your brother have done, why I wouldn't go anywhere without the buddy system." He laughed. "But, then again, you and your brother aren't exactly friends anymore, are you?"

"I don't know what you're talking about." Dean said. Yeah, him and Sam argued a little bit more recently, but it was a lot better than it had been in the past. Dean was just so freaking tired all the time, he just wanted to relax for five minutes.

"We talk about you two." Chris said, standing up and pushing the chair away. "There's a supernatural National Enquirer out there. And we love hearing the stories they find out about you two, made up or not." Chris laughed. "Believe it or not, but humans aren't the only fangirls you have out there."

"That's not creepy at all." Dean said. Chris walked around Dean.

"You know why I picked you?" Chris asked. "Why I didn't wait for little Sammy to show up?"

"Let me guess, you're a Dean girl?" Dean asked. Chris hauled off and smacked Dean, making him bite his cheek.

"I hate the Dean Winchester story arc in the Carver Edlund books." Chris pointed out. "Sam deserves so much better than is written for him. At first, I just thought it was some crazy drunk with too much time on his hands, writing out his fantasies. But then, I found out that you two were real from this witch I dated. And I became obbsessed. And I thought that becoming a warlock would get Sam to hunt me down and I could show him just how big of a fan I was." Chris stared Dean down. "But to start things off, I need to get you out of the way."

"Good luck with that." Dean smarted off. "If you've read the books, you would know that Sam and I don't really know how to stay dead."

"But you've never dealt with a warlock like me before." Chris told him. "And, I'm not a monster." He leaned forward and undid the binding on Dean. "Don't worry though, you're not exactly out of the woods. But I believe in giving you a fighting chance before I kill you."

Dean kicked Chris then, right in the stomach, and took off running. Chris stood there, arm wrapped around his abdomen, laughing.

"There's no way out of here if I don't want you to leave." He taunted. He pointed his gun and fired in the direction he thought Dean was. The bullet flew past and hit the wall. Dean stood, hiding behind a pillar, breathing heavy. Damn it, why didn't he just drink in the motel room? Why did Sam have such crazy fangirls? Made Dean wonder if he had just as crazy fans, but then another shot went off and Dean was brought back to his current situaiton.

"Come on Dean. Don't drag this out. This is fun and all, but I'd prefer to do this before Sam shows up." He was talking the other way, away from Dean. So Dean took his chance to run for the large doors that weren't too far from him. Chris heard him.

"Oh goodie!" He laughed. Dean tried to pull open the doors, but it wasn't working. "There's only one door in this building that will open to the outside. And it isn't this one." Chris pointed his gun at Dean and fired.

But another body jumped in between Dean and Chris before the bullet could reach the oldest Winchester.

"What? No!" Dean heard Chris call out. It took Dean a second to realize that the body in front of him was more of a sasquatch. Long hair, flannel shirt.

"Sammy!" Dean screamed. He ran to his brother, grabbed his gun, and shot Chris in the head. The warlock dropped to the floor and released his hold on the doors. "Oh god Sammy, no." Dean said, helping Sam settle against the pillar so he could look at the damage.

Right through the gut.

"Damn it." Dean growled. He pulled off his jacket followed by his flannel so he could use it to stem the blood flow. "Why the hell did you do that?"

"Didn't think." Sam hissed as Dean pressed on the wound.

"Yeah well your fan wasn't too happy on shooting you." Dean said. "Do you think you can get up, or do I need to call an ambulance?"

"And explain the dead body over there?" Sam whimpered. He grabbed on to Dean and pulled himself to his feet. More blood started to flow and Sam wavered a bit.

"Shit." Dean grumbled. "Come on. Stay with me Sammy." Sam didn't even argue the nickname. That was making Dean feel soooo much better. He had never been happier to see the Impala as he was right then. Screw the fact Sam was going to be bleeding in her. "Wait, how did she get here?"

"Found the bar. You were gone." Sam explained, gasping for breath. Dean managed to get him into the car, not caring about buckeling up. He took off like a bat out of hell for the nearest hospital. Thankfully, they actually found a town that had one.

Dean didn't even remember getting Sam out of the car, or the nurses taking him from him, or being directed to sitting in the waiting room with his head between his knees. Flashbacks to Bobby were flashing through his head, flashbacks to events he didn't want to remember. His hands were red, and he would probably trash these jeans soon.

He stared at the tiles on the floor for who knew how long. It had to have been days, that's what it felt like to Dean. But his hunter ears picked up the shoes on the floor. He looked up.

"Are you family of Samuel Winters?" The doctor asked. Dean's mouth was dry, and the only thing he could think to say was:

"How is my brother?"


End file.
